Son of Dis
by C.D.Wofford
Summary: The dwarves of Erebor wander the bitter winterlands with their ragged army of refugees. Even through harrowing conditions, there's still a little time to celebrate Yule, as far as Tili is concerned. Meanwhile, Dis has a secret; one she's kept from her husband for fear of what he might think. But is tonight, perhaps, the time to tell him of her unexpected gift? A Christmas one-shot.


**Author's Note: **So, I started writing this before I went to see "Battle of Five Armies". Without giving away any spoilers, I _will _say that I was so emotionally scarred that I felt I absolutely had to finish it and it sort of became my therapy. I am still an emotional wreck three days after the fact, (and am actually literally wearing black) but this story did comfort me a little, so I hope it's a sweet, happy little tale for you, too. 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anybody in this story, and I make no money off of it.

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><p><em><strong>Son of Dis<strong>_

The harsh wind cut mercilessly through the frayed woolen blanket wrapped tightly about her, and whipped her hair to sting across her face relentlessly.

She shivered. The bleak landscape stretched about her for miles, bare and open to the brutalities of the winter sky. No hills offered shelter from the wind. No trees spread their branches as a covering to the forlorn masses of the displaced dwarves of Erebor.

Tili saw his wife draw the wrapping tighter around her, and stepped closely to her side, putting his arm around her and pulling her close for warmth and support. It had been a long three months of traveling indeed; the fireworm had burned the dwarves away from their homeland but less than a season ago, and though ceaseless walking had put much distance between them and the mountain, it had made their hearts heavier and wearier with each step taken.

Home was behind them, not before.

And while Dis knew her brother would lead the people and make a future for them, it would be hard. She feared what it might do to Thorin, who bore not only his own, but the sorrows and responsibilities of a scattered people on his shoulders.

She watched him, trudging a little in front of her. His head was down against the wind, back bowed with hardship, and cheeks bitten with sandpaper wind. Yet his step spoke of strength. The elements strove to beat him back, but he defied them and pressed forward.

"He is a great leader," Tili said, softly, in her ear. He followed his wife's gaze to his brother in law. "I will follow him anywhere, Dis. He will be the reason we all survive this; the reason we will make it to the Blue Mountains to settle with so many."

"And you will be one of the reasons he is able to, love," Dis said, "You are steady and courageous as the rock of the mountain you were carved from."

She bit back the rest of what had almost escaped her lips. She had been about to say that she could not ask for a better dwarf to stand by her and be the father of her child. But she hadn't told Tili yet. Fear held her back.

What if he wasn't pleased? Hardship plagued them already; mouths to feed, burdens to bear, sick to care for...and they had to find food, somewhere. Tili was Thorin's best aid after the death of his brother, Frerin, and when they were not walking, he was making his way through the camp helping with anything that needed to be done. He had enough to worry about, and yet his cheer and love of life had not gone out. He gave so much heart to the travelers. His smile and yellow mane, like sunshine, brought joy to his wife's heart, also.

But what would he think when she told him they were to have a child? He had told her often how eagerly he longed for a little one; even before they were wed, his plans always involved a little dwarfling or two...or five, or seven.

But now? Would he feel the same way?

Someone else to care for, protect, feed, worry over. Someone else you loved that could be lost. Dis worried already for the tiny life within her. The wild was no place to give birth, and she had no desire to place that worry on her husband, too.

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><p>The sun fell behind the bleak, grey horizon behind the bleak, grey clouds, and with it died the wind. It was still now, but the cold was intense. Thorin called out for a halt and as one man the whole ragged caravan threw down their packs with relief and scurried to make fires.<p>

Tili moved away in the darkness to make his rounds and help everyone settle for the night, and Dis coaxed a little flame into existence in the slight shelter beside a supply wagon. There was a little meat; hard and dry in her pack. She put it in some water and hung it over the fire. There were three small potatoes, too. They were old and wrinkled with leathery skins, but still good. She cut them into large chunks and threw them into the boiling water.

Dis hesitated, glancing at her pack on the ground beside her. Today, as they walked, she had scavenged some wild rice and a handful of mushrooms that had just barely survived the threatening frosts. She shouldn't use them. They should be saved for another day when they had not even potatoes or dried meat.

But, Tili.

He hadn't had a proper meal for a fortnight; hadn't had a HOT meal in over a month.

Hang it.

Dis reached for the bag. Wild rice stew it was, then.

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><p>The stew was bubbling sluggishly, as Dis threw the mushrooms in. The food had more substance to it than any they had had in some time, thanks to the rice, and Dis felt a pang of sharp hunger. She would not taste for herself, however, before she served her husband.<p>

Fires dotted the bare plain around her, letting her know that all was nearly in order for the night and her cheerful Tili would be returning to her soon.

"Hello, darling!"

Dis started at the playful greeting as Tili jumped down from the wagon behind her.

"What were you doing up there?" she asked, a little breathless from her surprise.

"Sneaking up on you! There was no other way to get around you without going over, so I did," he said, grinning, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze from behind before immediately becoming interested in the steaming pot on the fire. Dis felt herself break into the inevitable easy smile. No one could choose otherwise when Tili was so joyful and teasing.

"And, you blessed among the daughters of Durin, I see you have prepared us a feast! Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin will come after we have eaten to sit with us, but before they come, I must give you my gift."

He took her hand and led her eagerly over to the wagon, until their shoulders nearly touched the wooden side rising above them.

"Look up," he said, grinning like a mischievous dwarfling. Dis did, and could see in the firelight a bunch of some kind of scraggly plant tied to one of the fastener loops overhead.

"Mistletoe?" she breathed.

"Found some of it growing by the stream at the other end of camp, just waiting there for me to pluck it and bring it back to my own dwarrowdam. What better fortune on the night of Yule?"

Yule! It was Yuletide, and she had completely forgotten. But Tili had not.

She allowed her husband to draw her into a kiss, and her eyes we burning with unshed tears by the time they pulled away.

"A happy Yule, love," he said, softly.

"I...I have something for you," Dis whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide. She was going to do it. Whatever happened afterward would be in Tili's hands.

"What? Besides the rich fare you have prepared for us? My wife is a gift-giver, indeed."

She reached forward with a trembling hand and grasped his large, sturdy one. She pressed his hand against the gentle swell of her stomach, that had been hidden so perfectly for weeks beneath the bulk of her travel clothes.

Her hesitant, tearful eyes met his wide ones as he began to realize what she was about to tell him.

"Dis...are you...?"

"My gift is your child," she said.

There was a moment of silence. Everything seemed frozen. Dis held her breath.

Half the camp heard the wild whoop of delight from Tili as he seized Dis in his arms and twirled her in a circle, sweeping her feet clear off the frozen ground.

"Dis, this is marvelous! I truly am the happiest dwarrow on this bleak winter night!"

"You had a hand in it too," she laughed, face shining with relief and joy. A crippling weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She needed never have doubted Tili.

"What is it, girl or boy?" he asked, scooping her up in his arms before sitting down and settling her on his lap.

"Hmmm. What do you say?" she asked, playfully.

He thought a moment.

"Boy. I'm sure of it," he decided.

"Boy, then. With a mane of yellow hair, just like yours," she added, flipping one of his golden braids back over his shoulder.

"If the babe is a boy," Tili said, suddenly, "he will be the heir to Erebor."

Dis' gaze fell and she looked away.

"What is it?" Tili asked, his voice and manner reflecting gentle concern at once.

"Will that mean anything to him, Tili? He will be born an outcast. A refugee in the wilds of the world."

"Thorin will lead us back, Dis. One day, we will return. Thorin will see it done, and by his side will stand our son. A proud son of Dis, daughter of Thror, son of Thrain, of the line of Durin."

"A proud son of Tili," Dis ammended, softly. Her gaze crept up to his out the tops of her eyes, and a slow grin spread over her face. "Do you wish to celebrate?"

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><p>When Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin made their way to Tili and Dis' little fire to spend Yule with them in song, a sight met their eyes that brought warmth to all three chilled and lonely hearts that night.<p>

The pot of stew bubbled forgotten over the fire, piping and ready to serve, but so far untouched.

And Tili and Dis were giggling like schoolchildren under the mistletoe.

_**Finis**_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong> So I guess you guys have noticed that since the holiday season hit my posting schedule completely flew out the window. Well, I'm afraid it might stay out the window until after New Year's, but that doesn't mean I'll stop posting. Just that it won't be as predictable as Mondays and Fridays. I'm hoping to get several more Christmas one-shots up, and I'm wishing all of my dear, lovely readers a beautiful, warm, and happy Christmas. 3

**P.S. Reviews would make wonderful Christmas gifts to this eager author!**


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